


A Failed Night

by DemaciasBrokenWing



Series: Stories of the Forgotten Demacian [2]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: CRICKEY CAMERON BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE ANGST, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 10:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12746457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemaciasBrokenWing/pseuds/DemaciasBrokenWing
Summary: Garen has a moment where his emotions overwhelm him during his quest.





	A Failed Night

_**YOU HAVE FAILED US ALL.** _

A jolt of panic shakes the Demaican awake. His eyes are wide open and a sheen of sweat sticks to his skin. The fire he had laid beside is now nothing more than a pile of smoldering cinder… allowing darkness to envelop the quiet plains. There is no moon in the night sky… and the stars cannot be seen through the thick blanket of clouds rolling along.

It was cold. Deathly cold…. but yet he felt as if he could burst into flame at any minute. A slow sigh passes through Garen’s lips, and he forces his body to climb to his feet. If he was awake… he might as well make use of his time. His entire body, however, did not agree with what his mind had planned. Each limb ached… and his head felt like it was being split in twain with a hatchet. Despite all of this, he stood upright and began to walk towards the outlining forest for firewood. If he was lucky, maybe he could find some game, as well.

It was taking some time for the man’s eyes to adjust to the dark as he trudged across the plains. His mind still lingered upon the nightmare he had just been forced to awaken from. The same damn nightmare time after time. It was true… he did fail them. His brethren were suffering daily now… if they weren’t already dead. Their voices seemed to increase in number and in anger every time he closed his eyes in a vain attempt to get some rest.

The haunting thoughts that ran through his mind, however, were abruptly stopped as his foot got caught in an unseen pothole. With the combination of the unexpected stumble and his weight, Garen fell to the ground with a sickening thud… his skull meeting the thick bark of an exposed tree root that had been long dead. With a growl, hot blood started to trickle out of the new wound, and the man rolled onto his back to clench a hand over his forehead.

“Ngh…  _Gods_ …!” He growled through clenched teeth. He sat up, his head spinning lightly as he did so. The last thing he needed was insult to injury…

But he had created this own insult. Everything that led him here was his own doing. The heavy sighs of frustration slowly started to turn into deep heaving breaths of anger.

This was his fault. He had failed  _everyone._

The anger boiled over. His hot blood covered his face as he snapped up to his feet, and then turned to the tree he had fallen upon. With a grunt, he threw a wild fist square into the tree’s body. The sting of knuckle crashing into bark was minimized between the leather glove on his hand… and the blind rage that was taking over his conscious thought. Another punch was thrown with his other fist. And then another. And another. The leather gloves would not protect his hands for long, and soon enough, he could feel the sting of open wounds blistering his hands. 

The pain only added more fuel. The smell of his blood filling his nostrils was enough to throw caution into the wind, and another grunt was mustered as he swung his leg into the wood with all of his might. A crack was heard… but it was not his bone. The grunt turned into a more wild, enraged roar as a second kick was delivered. The tree was suffering the wrath of Garen… and with one more kick, it bent over with a shattering sound of splinters.

As the tree fell, Garen took a step back, his body now in much more pain than it had been before. His heaving chest, cycling the unbridled anger through his veins, started to tide over into sorrow. His knees grew weak… and he fell to them as he looked down to his bloody, shaky hands through a visage coated in even more blood.

A low moan involuntarily rumbled out from his lungs… and then he cocked his head back and cried out as loud as he could. The bellowing anguish echoed through the trees… and there was no response. 

This rage… this dismay– It was his alone to suffer.

As the blood on his skin began to dry, Garen could feel his body turn lax, and his eyes heavy. He would’ve tried to go back to his camp… but the energy he had poured out ensured that his fate was sealed for the night. With a slump, the man toppled to the side and collapsed.

He would live. And when he awoke the next day… he would press on. He was just relieved that his outburst didn’t hurt anyone… and that he would be able to rest for a few fleeting moments.

For the first time in a long time… he experienced a dreamless sleep. It was certainly better than what it had been.


End file.
